Think It Over
by KJ5
Summary: Post Not Fade Away: Lorne does some thinking. Feedback is always helpful.
1. Thinking it over

It all started when I walked out of the nightclub. Lindsey's last words still rang in my ears. A flunky, that's what he called me, a flunky, an underling, a cog in the machine, a mere bit-player on the great stage of life. It was an insult! The hell of it is, he was right.  
  
I killed a man, me, Lorne, your Genial Host, and I did it in cold blood, not out of any personal animosity, not because of any threat to my well-being, but because someone asked me to.  
  
I felt like an errand boy sent by grocery clerks.  
  
Stop in the Name Of Love! Since when have I, Krevlorneswath of the Deathwok clan, been anyone's FLUNKY!  
  
So, I asked myself, what in the name of Diana Ross is going on here? How did it come to this? How did I, an incredibly classy, not to mention smooth, stylish, suave and debonair demon, turn into a minor character actor in a Tarantino knockoff? How did I get from running my own nightclub to carrying out a hit on an innocent man? Okay, maybe calling Lindsey 'innocent' is a weensy bit inaccurate, but the boy did have a great set of pipes; it was a shame and a crime to waste them.  
  
Sure, I've schmoozed with my share of vampires, warlocks, demons, actresses and even lawyers, but I do have some standards left. Maybe not high standards, but standards nonetheless. There are some things that even an amoral demon such as yours truly can't stomach.  
  
Anyhoodle, I was in a demon dive in Venice Beach, knocking back my 12th seabreeze, trying to figure out where it all went wrong, when it hit me: Connor.  
  
That's right, kiddies, Connor, Angel's son, creepy, backstabbing, hell-spawn extraordinaire. It all came back to me like Jumpin' Jack Flash.  
  
Picture a soft-focus montage, sort of an art-house flick effect: Darla showing up on Angel's doorstep with a demonic bun in her oven. Darla turning herself into dust in the wind to save the little monster. Wesley kidnapping the brat, Holtz and Connor's vacation in Quartoth, Connor's return as a savage, sullen, psychopathic teen who tried to kill his Uncle Lorne before sinking Angelcakes to the bottom of the ocean. Connor as the Ben to Cordelia's Mrs. Robinson. Connor in cahoots with Cordevilia to bring a maggoty ex-god into this world, and to top it off, Connor doing his darndest to deliver Angel's crew, including yours truly, to be torn to pieces by Jasmine's Evil Army of Love.  
  
Without Connor, Wesley would never have been separated from the rest of the gang, Angel wouldn't have spent his summer vacation sleeping with the fishes, my sweet Cordelia would never have been used up and thrown away by Jasrot; as an encore, all those folks killed because of The Beast would still be alive.  
  
I began to sense a common thread here.  
  
Then the proverbial penny dropped. THAT'S why Angelbuns took over as CEO of Evil, Incorporated. It had nothing to do with 'fighting the system from within', it was all part and parcel of the senior partner's evil plans. They must have offered to 'fix' Connor, to make everything all right by creating a pseudo-reality. And if the price Angel paid just happened to include the lives of his closest friends and colleagues, hey, what the hell, it was all worth it, wasn't it? I mean, who at Angel Investigations wouldn't have wanted to have their memories altered by Chluthu knows what kind of demonic mojo to help out the boy who tried to have us all killed? And this was after consigning his own father to Davy Jones's locker.  
  
The thing that really puts the sand in my speedos is that Angel, Mister We Must Have Free Will, didn't do anything so radical, such as asking our permission. No, Angelino made one of his unilateral decisions and allowed Wolfram and Hart to violate our minds so little Creepy McPsycho could live in some phony Brady Bunch-esque alternate reality while the rest of us slowly succumbed to despair. Thanks bunches Angel.  
  
Then it hit me: Fred, poor, sweet, innocent Fred, my brown-eyed girl. She was the nicest, kindest person I ever met, a ray of sunshine in our film noir lives before Illyria hollowed her out like a log. Considering how things turned out, we should have left her in Pylea.  
  
I began to feel a little irritated. So I had another seabreeze and came up with a plan. 


	2. Traveling Man

I won't bore you kiddies with a detailed explanation of how I managed to turn back the clock; suffice to say it involved calling in every magical marker I had and then some. Anyhoo, after reenacting the money shot from "Back To The Future", I found myself back in Bedford Falls, aka Caritas, my own lost horizon. I was about to do the dance of joy when who did I run into but a devilishly handsome chanteuse. He did a double take at the sight of me, nearly spilling his drink in the process.  
  
"It's me, me looking quite stylish, if I do say so myself," he said. Looking down at the glass in his hand, he said: "I could have sworn I told Ramone to make me a straight seabreeze. Apparently he mixed a little peyote in with the gin."  
  
"You might want to lay off the drinkerinos, Green Hornet. You're going to have quite the bangeroo come daylight," I said. "By the way, you look fabulous."  
  
"No, YOU look fabulous," he said, taking another sip of his drink. "Love the leather jacket."  
  
I laughed. "Oh you flatterer! This old thing? It's been hanging in my closet for months."  
  
"Assuming you're not an alcohol induced hallucination, what's with the Ghost of Christmas past routine, Krevikins?" he said.  
  
I filled him in on the backstory. "Well you see, it all started when Angel and Darla had a child. . . we brought Fred back from Pylea . . . Cordy gave birth to Angel's fully grown black grandchild slash ancient evil goddess . . . so we all joined Wolfram and Hart . . . and then, after I gunned Lindsey down in cold blood. . . So here I am!" I said cheerily.  
  
"Damn, I knew Ramone put a little extra something into this seabreeze," he muttered. "Memo to self: Have Ramone fired."  
  
I sensed a bit of skepticism from my younger self. "I get the feeling you don't believe me."  
  
"Your story does have a few plot holes," he said.  
  
"Name one," I said.  
  
"Angel had a black grandchild? Aren't he and Darla the whitest white people who ever lived? I've seen vanilla ice cream with more color than those two. And Cordelia, tannorexic that she is, isn't exactly african-american," he said. "No, sorry, I just don't believe it."  
  
I stared at him. Tough room, I thought. "Of all the crazy, fantastical things I just told you, the sticking point is Jasmine's complexion? Okay, I always thought Connor should have kicked Gunn's derriere," I said. "But that's neither here nor there. Name another objection, my verdant doppleganger."  
  
"You killed Lindsey? Am I supposed to believe you suddenly turned into Joe Pesci?" he said. "Didn't I leave Pylea because I was sick of the bloodshed? Sorry, I just don't see myself taking on the role of lord high executioner."  
  
"All right. You do have a point there," I admitted. "Things did get a wee bit out of hand towards the end. Anyhoo, that's why I came back here, to put things right."  
  
"Here I am to save the day, is it?" he said.  
  
"This is the night Angel brought Darla to Caritas, isn't it?" I asked, wishing and praying the answer would be yes.  
  
"I sent those two crazy kids to the trials several hours ago," he said.  
  
"Oh thank Bruce Almighty, I'm not too late!" I said. Gathering my assorted weaponry, I said: "Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I must bid you adieu. So long, farewell, and all that jazz."  
  
"Good luck with the master plan," he said, waving goodbye.  
  
As I ran out the door, I heard him say: "I really must ask Ramone what he put in this seabreeze. I could make a mint."  
  
To make a long story short, I made my way across town to that sleazy dive, hunkered down in the doorway across from Darla's cheap motel room, and waited. 


	3. Change Of Plan

Okay, I admit part of my chagrin stemmed from the realization that I had acted as Angel's errand boy, but as the night wore on, the guilt began to eat at me. What right did I have to take a man's life? Who am I to judge?

So I got to thinking and what I thought, I didn't like. First, I had read Lindsey's future and it wasn't pretty. Secondly, by killing Lindsey, I changed that future. Third, by changing the future, I proved that the future isn't set in stone, or in other words, what I saw wasn't THE future, it was merely A future, not his inescapable destiny. 

Last but not least, it occurred to me, sadly after the fact, that perhaps I'd been a bit hasty in pumping two slugs into his chest; that perhaps, I could have, and yes, probably should have, tried to find a better way. I could have tried to reason with him; or zapped him with some mojo; or if that failed, clonk him over the head and lock him up until he came to his senses. I believe the Hyperion had a nice dungeon that could have been used for that purpose.

In fact, the more I thought things over, the more I realized that Connor wasn't the true problem; the problem was his dear old dad. Yes, I mean Angel, good old Angel, champion of truth, justice and the American way, except when he isn't. Which is most of the time, if you think about it for a minute. How many times did Angel act selfishly? How many times did he make decisions for everyone else without their knowledge or consent? 

For that matter, when did he ever show any true compassion or kindness or help anyone without some kind of ulterior motive? I tried to think of a single occasion when Angel performed a good deed where he wasn't trying to impress someone, usually a pretty girl, earn brownie points with The Powers That Be, and/or getting paid. I couldn't. 

On the other hand, I could think of quite a few times when Our Hero acted anything but. Like the time he locked the lawyers into Holland Manners's wine cellar with two vampires. Sure, they were evil, but they still were human beings, and I believe some of the attendees were innocent spouses or dates. 

Or how about that man who was sucked dry by that transparent slug thing? Sure, Angel didn't intend for that to happen, but that poor chump's death was a direct result of Angel's actions, maybe not murder, but definitely manslaughter, and I don't remember seeing any remorse on our souled vampire's part.

Not to mention the fate of the hapless guests at the Hyperion back in the nifty fifties. Yes, they did try to kill Angel, but that was because they were possessed by a demon, which he knew very well. So what did Mr. I'm The Good Guy do? Why, he sided with the demon! A true hero wouldn't have done that. 

Don't get me started on his double standard of redemption. Anything is forgiven if you're a pretty girl, but indifference, hostility and rejection if you're not a nubile young thing. You want examples? Well, if you're a psychotic witch who tried to destroy the world because you lost a loved one, Angel will make a joke about it and give you a big hug. 

Or if you're a crazy slayer who's killed several people, assaulted others, make serious attempts on the life of the Slayer, took a job as a paid assassin, kidnapped and tortured Angel's best friend, what the hell, just cry and say you're sorry. All will be forgiven.

As for poor Merle, how many times did Angel literally beat information out of him? Is that the modus operandi of a good guy? I don't think so.

He's also a tad bit fickle too. Does this sound familiar? Ooh, I'm in love with Buffy. Look! Darla's back! I'll do anything for her. Buffy's still my one true love. Now I'm love with Cordelia now. Hey! Gwen's hot. You know, Fred's quite the looker. Time to go to Sunnydale and pop in on Buffy - can't let Spike have a shot! Nina's cute! Buffy's dating another man a mere five years after I dumped her! Damn, can't have that, so it's off to Rome I go! Oops! Buffy got away, I guess I really like Nina after all. Yeesh, make up your mind Romeo.  
Why did I ever think he was one of the good guys? For that matter, why did I ever think that his precious Powers That Be are good guys? Look at the way they treated Cordy? First they let Doyle zap her with abilities that a human simply can't handle, then they allowed her to suffer the torments of the damned; making her so crazed with pain and desperate for relief that she allowed herself to be demonized. Which led to the poor girl getting filled up and used up by Jasmine.

Then those 'noble creatures of the light' let the poor girl rot away until her body gave out. Yeah, yeah, they let her come back for one final day - so she could do their bidding and keep Angel plugging away. Dead at the tender age of twenty three; with friends like that, who needs enemies?

Am I the only one who thinks that Angel turning her over to the same people who tried to kill her was a bad idea? That maybe, just maybe, Wolfram and Hart's minions didn't try their best to revive her? That if Angel hadn't taken Wolfram and Hart's offer, and instead, asked, oh say, his super-powerful wiccan friend to help Cordelia, that she might have recovered? But I forgot, Angel always knows best.

Speaking of Jasrot, just what was she? A rogue Senior Partner? An errant Power That Be? I have a sneaking suspicion that the Senior Partners and The Powers That Be are merely two warring factions of the same group. I don't think that either side gives a rat's ass about the human race. Why should I get involved with their petty squabbles?

Okay, so by then I was in a pretty bad mood, disillusionment is never pretty. Realizing you've spent the last four years of your life following a, well, false idol, is depressing to say the least. 

So anyhoo, instead of Plan A, (i.e. waiting outside of this cheap motel and dusting Drusilla before she could turn Darla), I formed Plan B. 

I crossed the parking lot, knocked on the door, told Angel "It's me". When he opened the door, I promptly aimed my crossbow and sent an arrow right into his dried up walnut of a heart. I wanted to make absolutely sure that the little hellspawn never gets born, so I reloaded and took care of Darla.

Problem solved.

Do I feel guilty? Don't be ridiculous. The numbers alone prove I was right. Angel didn't save a soul after Darla was turned, but he sure caused a hell of a lot of deaths.

Now all I have to do is have a chat with Lindsey. I have a few things I need to say to that boy.

The End. 


End file.
